


Recreation

by siriuslyuptonogood



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:10:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuslyuptonogood/pseuds/siriuslyuptonogood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t long after everything was finished with the alphas that Derek left. He asked Scott to watch over his pack while he was gone. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be, but he needed to go. Scott agreed and even had the decency not to ask. He offered him well-wishes and that was that. Derek was gone. He knew Stiles would freak out, so he opted not to tell him. A dick move, especially to Scott who’d have to deal with the backlash, but he couldn’t handle that right now. Stiles was the whole reason Derek was leaving. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Derek takes a leisurely stroll up the west coast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recreation

It wasn’t long after everything was finished with the alphas that Derek left. He asked Scott to watch over his pack while he was gone. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be, but he needed to go. Scott agreed and even had the decency not to ask. He offered him well-wishes and that was that. Derek was gone. He knew Stiles would freak out, so he opted not to tell him. A dick move, especially to Scott who’d have to deal with the backlash, but he couldn’t handle that right now. Stiles was the whole reason Derek was leaving.

He left the Camaro, hitch-hiked to the coast, and starting walking. He stopped only when he had to, when he felt he couldn’t take another step. He slept in trees, abandoned houses, parks, and once on the warm Californian sand. He focused solely on the steps he took, and when he wasn’t walking, he was too tired for thinking. He was two days into Oregon before he felt the distinct pain of loneliness. This feeling didn’t come until he stopped for the first time in a motel. After he’d showered, eaten a good meal, and laid down on a real bed. That’s when he missed his pack; that’s when he missed Stiles. It was as if someone had taken a shovel and hollowed his body out. But he knew that shovel had been in his hands.

He didn’t stop again for two whole days. He ate wild mushrooms and berries he found in the Oregonian woods. He caught a rabbit once, but as he was tearing into it, he heard a stick crack and a whimper. He spun around to see a puppy staring at him with wide eyes. It was brown with long hair, and it couldn’t have been more than six months old. Derek ripped off a piece of the rabbit and held it out to the dog who stumbled forward, stuck between timidity and starvation. After chomping down on the offered gift, the pup gave a high pitched whine and the man tossed over the rest of the rabbit. He wasn’t that hungry anyway.

“Where did you come from?” Derek asked when the rabbit was gone. The puppy just looked at him, head cocked to the side.

“It’s kind of unlikely that you’ve been surviving out here. But here you are, I guess. Are you a boy or are you a girl? I don’t really want to look; seems rude as we’ve just met,” he replied, and, as if on cue, the pup got up and lifted leg to water a tree.

“Okay, that solves that. So, I don’t do dogs. You should probably just head back where you came from,” Derek said. He stood, pulled on his jacket, and resumed his hike. Though he didn’t look back, he knew the pup was following him. He could hear him step on sticks and brush, as well pant, but the thing didn’t catch up with Derek until he stopped at a stream for a drink of water. The puppy lapped up the water long after the man had finished, but when he was done, he sat down, turning his eyes up to look at his human companion.

“Your eyes are the same color as this guy I know,” Derek said as he started to walk again, “in fact, your coat’s the same color as his hair. And you’re gangly like him. All limbs. I don’t like it. I left home because of him, you know. And now I have to deal with you.” The pup replied with a woof, finally starting to keep pace.

“You’re just as annoying as him, always following where you shouldn’t be,” growled the man, but he really didn’t mind. When they stopped for the night, he crawled into a make shift den made from half fallen trees and brush. When the puppy curled up against his chest, Derek had to admit that it felt nice to have someone else there.

He stopped at the next town and bought a backpack, a collapsible dog bowl, and a bag of puppy chow.

When he was sitting in a park before resuming his hike, some little girl asked what the puppy’s name was and before he could even think, Stiles’ name came tumbling out of his mouth. When she called the pup Stiles, he responded and Derek cursed.

It took twenty three days to completely cross Oregon and get halfway up the Washington coast. They stopped in Ocean Shores, Washington because Derek could remember a family vacation there what seemed like a lifetime before. He could remember eating saltwater taffy until he was sick with Laura. They spent a week there in an abandoned house. He bought a collar and an emergency leash for Stiles. On a whim he purchased a pirate bandana and as he tied it around the pup’s neck, he explained that it added a bad-ass vibe.

“I have my leather jacket, and you now have that bandana,” he said, scratching Stiles’ head. The pup let out a woof, but didn’t try to get the bandana off. Derek considered that a success.

It was a week later that they reached the end of the coast and Derek didn’t know where to go.

“This is all your fault,” he said, turning to the pup, “if you could have just stayed away and left me alone I wouldn’t be here. But no. You’re just a stupid puppy who follows unceasingly. I’m dangerous. How many times to I have to tell you that?” By the end of it, he was screaming and Stiles was cowering.

“If you had just stayed away, I wouldn’t be in love with you, Stiles!” Derek yelled, dropping to the ground. There was no sound but his own breathing as he curled up on the rocks. It was dark, the only light from the half full moon. He closed his eyes, trying not to think about anything until a cold wet nose pressed against his cheek, followed by a warm, tongue, licking away the tears that were starting to fall.

“You don’t even care, do you? You don’t care that I’m dangerous; you don’t care that I yell and scream when I’m angry. You still love me,” Derek said softly. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, burying his face in the long brown fur.

“I’ve made a huge mistake.” Woof. “Oh, shut up. You don’t have to rub it in.”

They stayed in what used to be a shack on the beach for a month before Derek decided to go back. Half of the roof and two walls remained of this shack, so they had enough cover for when it rained, as it often did in Washington, but the salty sea air still managed to make everything damp. They survived on things gathered from the forest and fish that Derek mostly caught. Every now and then Stiles would get lucky and catch one. The first time, he was so excited that he dropped the fish and it got away. Derek doubled over laughing until the pup pounced, getting them both sandy and wet.

When it was finally time to go home, Derek could feel it. He missed his pack. He missed Stiles and he finally, finally understood what that meant. He washed his clothes in a fresh water stream and managed to catch a ride in a pickup truck to Tacoma. The shower in the motel felt like heaven and the new clothes he bought to replace the one outfit he’d been wearing for two months felt stiff. When he looked at himself in the mirror he was shocked by the fuzzy thing growing on his face and he glared at his reflection for a good solid half an hour before going down to the store and buying a razor. Once he was clean, shaven, and Stiles was bathed, he set out again.

Between five different cars and two days of walking, it only took five days to get back to Beacon Hills. Derek walked into the loft to see Isaac lying on the couch, asleep. He was sprawled out across the whole thing, his arms thrown haphazardly in the most uncomfortable looking position, like he was trying to take up as much space as possible.

“Isaac,” he called out, gruffly. The boy started away, thrashing slightly and falling onto the floor.

“Derek!” he yelled, and suddenly Derek found himself tangled in a mass of limbs. Stiles decided to join in on the fun as well, yipping excitedly until Isaac pulled away.

“Dog?” the boy asked, tilting his head in a manner suspiciously similar to the puppy.

“Yeah, that’s uh… I found him,” the man said as he scratched the back of his neck.

“He’s cute,” the boy stooped down to pet him, ruffling his neck fur, “and friendly. Does he have a name?”

“Yeah, it’s uh. Stiles.”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, Stiles. You got a problem with it?” Derek growled.

“Nah, it’s fitting,” Isaac said with a grin that the man wanted to smack off his smug face, “you found him? Where were you? Scott said you left, but that’s all he said. We’ve been worried.”

“I hiked the coast, spent a month at the very tip of Washington. Hitch hiked back. No big deal. I’m back. I’m fine. You’re fine. Everybody’s fine.”

“Stiles isn’t fine,” the boy said, looking up at Derek from the floor, his fingers still buried deep in the chocolate fur, “He’s heartbroken.”

“It’s not my job to tread lightly so little boys don’t get hurt,” Derek growled. He stomped out of the living room and into his bedroom. The familiarity of his shower, his soap, and his shampoo was a relief. When he was clean, he threw himself onto his bed and didn’t wake up until his room was dark and the door creaked open. Stiles darted in, jumping up onto the bed, while someone stood in the doorway. Someone who smelled like VO5 and irish spring, and grass.

“Derek.”

“Stiles,” he said, sitting up. He was glad he’d at least pulled on boxers before crashing. Pup-Stiles curled up, protecting his person from this stranger. He could feel a soft growl reverberating through the dog’s body. It was like he could tell Derek was upset and the person upsetting him was this stranger.

“I’m glad to see you’re back,” Stiles said, stepping fully into the room and shutting the door behind him. Derek could hear that horrible sound in his voice, like his was choking back tears, like even this small statement was too much for him to say.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you just seem to be getting yourself into messes all the time, and I wasn’t here to…”

“To save me? Right. Because I need you to save me. You, a fucking asshole, who just up and leaves without saying anything at all. You’ve been gone two months. No word. Nothing.”

“I don’t have to tell you everything about my life. I took a trip. So what?”

“No, I guess you don’t. But you kissed me over and over. You fucked me as I cried out your name. You fell asleep wrapped around me night after night, and then you leave. You just leave. Don’t I deserve more than that?” Stiles whimpered. The tears shimmered in the moonlight against his pale cheeks.

“You left out the part where you almost died.”

“But I didn’t die. I wish I had because then I wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night, unable to breathe, reaching out for someone who isn’t there. If I was dead, my heart wouldn’t feel like it’s being squeezed by invisible hands.”

“I’m dangerous.”

“And I’m stubborn. Whether you’re with me or not, I’ll still be around. So I’d rather you’re with me.”

“I got to the top of Washington. I was on the coast, at the edge of the country, water on two sides, and suddenly I didn’t know where to go. So I started yelling and when I ran out of steam, I realized that it didn’t matter if I was dangerous or not. You’d still be there. Because you love me. And because I think I love you,” Derek said. He slid the puppy out of his lap and stood, walking over to Stiles. He wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him close.

“I made a mistake, and I’m sorry,” he whispered. He could feel soft sobs roll through Stiles’ body, his shoulder and neck becoming slick with tears.

“Don’t leave me again.”

“I don’t know that I could.”

They ended up on the bed. Stiles calmed down.

They didn’t talk, just breathed and relaxed in each other’s arms until Stiles, in a heavy, tired voice asked, “What’s with the dog?”

“I found him,” Derek replied, “in the woods. He followed me.”

“Oh, what’s his name?”

“Stiles.”

“Yes?”

“No, his name is Stiles,” Derek said softly.

“His name is Stiles?” the boy asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” And soon Stiles and his canine counterpart were both asleep, the dog, snoring softly, the boy breathing evenly, with Derek snuggled between. 


End file.
